


Ermine Fur

by MissTantabis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Elizabethan, Elizabethan English, Gore, Historical, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, M/M, Murder, Thriller, Violence, slight romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTantabis/pseuds/MissTantabis
Summary: “So”, dared Edward to ask, “will you make the gloves? Or do you rather face the consequences?”“We will think about it.”“I want a clear answer! Is it yes or –?”Nathanael’s look was cold and unwavering and his voice like ice as he cut him short: “I said, we will think about it.” Edward moistened his lips for a couple of seconds, before he turned around on his heels and left the shop.Two glove makers, Nathanael Lynch and Richard Tailor, are being confronted by an aristocrat, who orders a pair of gloves from them. Unfortunately the order breaks the dress code; and even though the pair refuses, it could bring them in serious trouble. After all sodomie is a crime and you could be hanged for it.





	Ermine Fur

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody,  
> this story was actually written as an exercise in a Creative Writing course I had last year. It is one of the first original fictions, which I am kind of proud of; and was one of the first stories that taught me how to redefine my craft as a writer. However as many of you will have noticed, I usually write fanfiction.  
> So if I am honest, I am terribly anxious about this piece. I have no idea what reception it will receive. However even if you criticise it, do not sugarcoat anything. Be honest and polite. I would be more then happy to learn that a few people liked this mess, I wrote with some time constraints on me.  
> Yours sincerly, Miss T

The pair of scissors cut through the sheep leather like a boat through the waves of the sea. Nathanael, a young man with golden locks and stormy eyes, was sitting at the muddled desk of the workshop, loaded with fabrics of all colours and threads in silver and gold. Papers were scattered across the table with sketches of flowers and animals. One of the papers said Oxfordshire, calf, sheep and horse leather, fifteen pounds.

Placing the cut-out gloves down, Nathanael was about to pick up thread and needle when he suddenly heard two people arguing just outside his workshop. A plea could be heard, but it was overpowered by another person shouting: “I do not care what you have to say. Thou art merely the apprentice. Where is thy master?”

Nathanael cursed under his breath and got up. With long steps, he sauntered into the part of the workshop, where customers were treated. It was a very small room, which was connected to the workshop itself by a door next to the counter. Richard cowered just before it. His auburn locks looked uncombed and the blue eyes seemed even larger then they usually were in his fear.

“What is going on here?” Nathanael’s voice was calm, though his lips twitched. His feline-like face was stern. Helping Richard to his feet, he softly brushed over the other man’s clothes and sleeves, checking for any injury. The one year younger man seemed to be unharmed, though startled and a bit out of breath.

Only when the glove maker had made sure his friend was alright, did he bother to give his attention to their costumer. Nathanael stood face to face with a tall man, wearing pompous velvet trousers and a satin vest. Golden lines were interwoven into crimson fabric. The entire attire spoke of nobility and wealth. The wheat-haired boy might have been deemed beautiful, had his blue eyes not such a haughty look..

“Art thou the master of this house?”, asked the boy.

“Aye, ‘tis me.” Nathanael laid a hand on his chest and made a brief bow. His smile was sour. The clouds in his eyes seemed to gather, forming a storm. “Nathanael Lynch. How may I be of service, Master…?”

“Master Edward Russel”, introduced the boy himself, “Second youngest son of the Earl of Bedford. I want a pair of gloves. But your apprentice” – he nodded towards Richard, who bite his lips angrily – “refuses to make them for me.”

Nathanael rose his brows. He looked between both men. Richard usually never refused to make gloves. In fact, he was one of the first people to ask what a person wanted. “Well, where is the problem? We have some of the best leathers and platelets in London”, Nathanael inquired, “Why art thou hesitating? Richard, it is not wise to refuse costumers.”

“Even if they break the Statutes of Apparel?”

This statement caused Nathanael to halt. He looked back at Edward. His head was tilted to the side, and he stared at the man as if he tried to read his mind.“What fabrics do you want for these gloves, Sir?”, he inquired.

“Leather and ermine fur”, said Edward as if this choice was obvious. He had risen his head and stared at them through hard eyes. Pride made his face waxen.

The look caused Nathanael’s pulse to quicken and he ground his teeth together. Right now he wanted to grab Edward by his fancy, stitched collar, drag him to the backyard and bump his head into the toilet bowl. Was this man stupid? Had he no idea how the dress code worked? Clothes made people. And if somebody wore the wrong attire, whom did they end up blaming? Him!

“We cannot make the gloves for you”, explained Nathanael, “Not in the way thou want us to. Ermine fur is reserved for members of the royal family. While thou art of high birth, thou hast no permission to make such a request. Change the fur to something else like otter or fox.”

“I am not going to change my order! What about Lady Hopskirch?”, snapped Edward, “You fulfil any wish she has. No matter how long the gauntlet or how decorative the tapestry upon it is. I saw the gloves she wears. Thou hast no right to refuse to do the same for me!” 

Nathanael bit his lips.  _I want to choke thee like a_ _ puppy _ _!_ Richard took his hand and rubbed his fingers over his skin. The warmth of the touch sunk through his flesh and awoken something in his inner core. The tenseness in Nathanael barely loosened. He gave Richard a thankful look.

“Lady Hopskirch follows the dress code”, replied Richard quietly. 

Nathanael curled his lips in disgust as he returned his gaze to Edward. _I doubt, we can say the same for you._ Silence began to thicken upon them like suffocating fog.

Edward stared at them. He seemed to be baffled that they refused his demand. His cheeks turned red, then white, then red again. However upon seeing their interlinked hands and them standing so close together, his gaze darkened. He said: “I could ruin you two, you know. All I have to do, is talk with the right kind of people.”

His smile could have made a wolf proud, and Nathanael felt Richard shrink back. He quickly stepped before the other man.

“So”, dared Edward to ask, “will you make the gloves? Or do you rather face the consequences?”

“We will think about it.”

“I want a clear answer! Is it yes or –?”

Nathanael’s look was cold and unwavering and his voice like ice as he cut him short: “I  _said_ , we will think about it.” Edward moistened his lips for a couple of seconds, before he turned around on his heels and left the shop.

Only when he was gone, did Nathanael relax. His cold aura left him as if he had stripped of another cloak and hung it on the wall. Richard leaned against the counter and rubbed his arms, seeking comfort in the touch. A shorn sheep, embarrassed by its pink skin.

Nathanael massaged his neck. “We cannot do this Earl’s wish. The Borderer’s Company would throw us out of business as soon as they were to examine his gloves and learn whom they are intended for.” He was expecting a reply from Richard, but his apprentice merely huffed and nodded.

Nathanael sighed and laid a hand on Richard’s shoulder. He whispered: “You are not taking what he says seriously, do you? He would not dare to reveal our secret.”

“What is stopping him from it? The law is on his side. We are sinners. The both of us.”

“Nonsense.” Nathanael laid both hands upon his shoulders. He looked Richard in the eyes and tried to calm him: “We have committed no crime. We have done nobody harm. Is it such a shame to be who we really are?” He squeezed his shoulders.

Richard dropped his head again and gazed at the rings on Nathanael’s fingers. Uncomfortable silence spun itself between them. They felt the threat upon them like a shadow on the skin. The one sin everybody knew, yet nobody dared to name. Not even behind closed doors.

“But if he tells…”

“He won’t! I will not let this happen.” Nathanael cut Richard short. “Listen, Rich, if that man thinks he can take away everything we have build and ruin our lives, he can eat my wit!” Thunder rolled across the storm of his eyes and lightning flashed.

Richard panted. He looked down. Nathanael pulled him into a hug, rocked him gently from side to side and began to comb his auburn locks. “My love”, he whispered, “Do not be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to thee. I promise.” He could feel Richard shake and saw tears glimmer in his eyes.

Softly kissing his lids, Nathanael dragged a hand over Richard’s neck. “Now dry thy eyes. Stay in the workshop. Do your craft. I will make sure thou never hast to see this man again.”

He was about to push himself free, when Richard took a hold of his wrists. “Don’t go!”, he begged, “What shall I do without thee? I need you! I –” A finger placed itself upon his lips, silencing him.

Nathanael ran his hand over Richard’s jawline, kissing him softly. “Thou dost not need me”, he reassured him, “You can do well on your own. Thou art better at thy craft then I’ll ever be.”

***

Finding Edward Russell was not difficult. Laughter lead Nathanael straight to a pub. People of all classes were drinking Ale. Their clothes told the tale of their identities. The peasants were wearing wool in yellow and green, pale compared to the crimson satin and purple velvet of the upper class.

Among them, Edward was a man like any other. Nathanael’s own choice of clothing made him seem like a merging of the classes: A black, simple leather vest, stitched with small platelets, forming skulls. He approached Edward and sat down.

Edward immediately noticed him and walked over. “Well, well, well!” The young Earl’s breath smelled of Ale. “If it isn’t Master Lynch! The glove maker has come to ask for a trinket!”

Nathanael rose his brows. “I am not here to be made a mockery off, Master Edward. I came to talk business with you.”

Edward’s face brightened. “Aha, I knew you would change your mind! Wise choice indeed, Master Lynch.”

Nathanael got up. “Well, then come”, he stated, “So we can settle this.”

***

Nathanael lead Edward upstairs to one of the rooms of the pub. It was a small room with a table and a large wooden box, reserved for clothing on the wall. Edward sat down at the table, however Nathanael remained where he was.

“I’d like to apologise.” He offered a smile. “No trader should chase a costumer away like that. I told my apprentice off for being such a fool. I promise you, such an embarrassment won’t happen again.”

Edward rubbed his hands and responded: “I recommend thee for thy course of action. An apprentice needs a strong hand, my father always says that.” He leaned forwards in excitement. “Do you have my gloves?”

“Not yet, I am afraid.” Nathanael saw the man’s face fall. He played with the rings on his fingers. Heavy gold reflected dim light. “I was wondering if thou could be a little more precise in thy request. What are you envisioning for your gloves?”

Nathanael turned his back on him.

Edward delivered promptly: “I want a tapestry glove, gauntlet seven inches, end decorated with ermine fur. The tapestry shows a snow-covered battlefield and maybe a few rubies as drops of blood.”

Nathanael looked over his shoulder. “Thou hast a very vivid imagination. I recommend you for it.” Again his fingers turned his gold rings around. “I must measure thy hands. Do you mind coming closer?”

A pair of hands was extended behind him. Nathanael slowly turned around and took them. He ran his fingers over the back and palm and thoughtfully admired the well-cleaned, fair skin. How soft it felt to the touch. Like velvet or silk. No, he could not do that! Or could he? Why not? It seemed such a fitting end for this disgrace of aristocracy.

Nathanael’s grip tightened so abruptly, the man let out a sudden yelp. Twisting his body, they slammed against the box. The knife was in Nathanael’s hand, and Edward’s eyes grew wide. Muffling the shout upon striking, he felt the body struggle, knuckles hit his cheek, bruised his lips. However Nathanael did not let go and merely pushed stronger against the box.

Nathanael’s breath ghosted hot against Edward’s ear as he whispered: “My master is not going to make a fool out of himself in front of the Borderer’s Company because of some far fetched wishes.” The knife cut into his chest like butter and Edward moaned, tears in his lashes. A last frantic battle as hands tried to push him off. Nathanael yelped angrily as a few strands of his hair were ripped off.

The man slumped upon the ground. Nathanael cleaned the bloodied knife upon the corpse’s left sleeve. Checking the door for a few seconds, he knelt before the body and went to work. Once he was done, Nathanael dumped it into the box, shut it and left the pub.

***

The workshop was reeking. Nathanael had thrown all windows open in an attempt to get some resemblance of fresh air into the room. Otherwise the stench would cause him nausea and headache.

In the centre of the room stood a large bucket, in which laid a mess of hide, soaked in a mixture of fish and animal oil to produce a soft and flexible fabric. Nathanael was standing before the bucket and slowly turning the still untanned leather around in its soup.

The door opened. Nathanael turned his head as he stirred. Richard was coming in. The other man stopped as far away from the source of the stench as possible. “I brought you some water and food in case you get hungry”, he explained, placing a bottle and a chunk of bread on the table. “Are you done anytime soon? It’s been almost a week by now.”

Nathanael murmured his thanks. They stayed silent for a while, only interrupted by the soft gurgling of the brew and the squashing sound of skin in water. “This skin will make for a lovely leather, don’t you think?”, inquired Richard.

“I suppose so. But then the animal it came from was incredibly soft to touch.”

“It is calf, isn’t it?”, murmured Richard, “Calves have really soft fur, so they say.”

“I am not sure.” Nathanael rose the stick a bit and the snow-white skin dripped oil. “It could also be horse. I heard, horse skin is very durable, however it makes for surprisingly soft leather.” The bundle landed back in its bath. Drops caught in Nathanael’s hair.

Richard hummed in agreement. “Whether it is horse or calf does not matter. It will be beautifully white. That is favoured currently.”

Silence again. For a few seconds, there was only the sloshing of the skin. Nathanael rose a hand and Richard handed him the water bottle. “Thanks.” Gulping down half of the liquid, Nathanael asked: “What gloves will you make out of this leather?”

“I dunno”, murmured Richard, “Maybe tapestry gloves? The white could work nice on a lady. I heard ladies like calf.”

“Yes, ladies like calf. And ermine fur.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached the end of this story, I would be very grateful if you told me what you liked about this piece, what you disliked and how I could improve what you disliked. It helps me immensely as a writer and keeps me motivated. A kudos would also be nice.


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